


In the Release of Fear

by Silex



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Dubious Science!, F/F, Fuck Or Die, Infected Characters, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/pseuds/Silex
Summary: The last thing Claire remembered was the elevator stopping. What happened between that and waking up cold, with a spinning headache was a mystery.
Relationships: Moira Burton/Claire Redfield
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27
Collections: Minigame: Round 1





	In the Release of Fear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HostisHumaniGeneris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/gifts).



> It's a flash exchange I told myself, low word count I told myself. And then this.

The last thing Claire remembered was the elevator stopping. What happened between that and waking up cold, with a spinning headache was a mystery.

With how bright the lights were opening her eyes to look around wasn’t an option yet, though she kept trying. Her first coherent thought was that maybe it was all already over and she and Moira were back home safe. She could have been in a hospital somewhere, probably one run by the BSAA given what the two of them had been through. As soon as she opened her eyes Chris would probably be there, talking to her, or, because he was that way sometimes, talking at her, finding some way to blame her for the situations she ended up in.

Then again, even before Raccoon City she’d had a tendency to find trouble, usually by following his lead.

Thinking of following her brother’s lead, there was another possibility. One she wasn’t sure was better or worse.

This wouldn’t be the first time she’d woken up cold and uncomfortable from passing out in the bathroom after an evening spent drinking. Usually on those nights she ended up curled up in the bathtub, sometimes still partially dressed.

She’d learned a lot from Chris.

Trying once more to open her eyes and finding it was still too blindingly white out for her to even think of looking around, she figured she had good reason to assume she was correct. It was far too bright for her to still be on the island, perpetually overcast and with an air of decay.

This was bright and white with a faint chemical undertone, just like the bathroom of her apartment after a night of trying to escape from the kinds of things you couldn’t run from.

Monsters? B.O.W.s? Psychopathic bitches with god complexes?

Those were all easy enough to get away from and she’d done it all before. You just had to keep moving, pushing through until you got through. Moira probably thought she was insanely brave, or just insane, but Claire had never really worried about the bracelet on her wrist going off. She knew how to keep those things back, to compartmentalize and do what she needed to.

With Neil it had been close because she’d trusted him.

Just thinking that was hard. Not because of what he’d done, selling them all out in the name of the kind of self-aggrandizing kind of thing he liked, because he’d always been full of himself, but because she’d trusted him.

The Overseer, whatever her plans had been, had made a mistake picking her for her insane experiment.

She was too burned out to be afraid anymore.

Except when she got home safe from everything except the ghosts and there was nowhere to run.

No one to call.

Some of that was her fault.

Most of it really.

She was good at making bad decisions.

Which was why she chose to focus on getting up and closing the blinds rather than try and figure out why she was laying on the floor.

She couldn’t get up.

It wasn’t simply that she’d wedged herself between the toilet and the sink, another thing she’d done once, and couldn’t manage the coordination to get free, or that she’d slept in some impossible position that had left her arms and legs too numb to move.

Something was holding her down.

This time she forced herself to keep her eyes open, even though it hurt.

Bright lights above, her back and ass numb from laying on a hard surface.

She turned her head, able to do that much at least. It helped.

Her eyes were having trouble focusing, but she was able to manage enough to wish she’d kept them closed.

She was on a table, stainless steel of the sort she’d seen too many times in too many places that she’d wished she’d never been.

She and Moira hadn’t made it back home.

Suddenly remembering what had happened past the elevator became a lot more important.

The elevator had stopped.

Before that they’d dealt with Neil.

Immediately afterwards Moira had looked at her.

She’d told Moira not to worry, that she could remember.

Because really, after all they’d been through, panicking over being stuck on an elevator.

Moira had been pretty badly shaken to begin with though.

Claire had… she was pretty sure that she’d hugged her and told her that everything was going to be fine, that they were going to get out okay and…

Maybe, in that moment Claire had felt something close to fear, nothing near enough for the bracelet to detect, for the virus to do anything, but there might have been something.

Something very similar to what she felt now, strapped naked to a table in some sort of lab.

It made her think of…

Actually, it made her think of way too many things, mostly things she had no way of knowing.

Her mind had filled in the blanks of what had happened to Steve before she found him with all sorts of situations, many of them similar to the one she was now in.

There was nothing she could do about that.

Moira though, what had happened on the elevator?

Moira had looked at her, some unspoken agreement was reached and they tried to pry open the elevator door.

Claire was sure they’d at least tried.

She distinctly remembered working together in an attempt to pry open the door.

After that it was all blank. There’d been a sensation of falling but she couldn’t tell if she’d fallen to the floor or the elevator had started again, going down.

“Good, you’re awake,” the Overseer’s voice echoed from nowhere, “I was wondering how long it would take.”

It was still too hard to focus for Claire to manage a better comeback than ‘fuck you’.

The unseen woman laughed.

“You’ve lasted longer than anyone else so far.”

“I’m not done yet,” Claire retorted, testing the straps holding her down. They were secure, not even an inch of give, of course.

“No, you’re not,” the Overseer replied coolly, “There’s still so much I need to find out. T-Phobos is in the final stages of testing and you’ll be helping me with them.”

Claire struggled, more because it was something to do than because she thought she had any chance of breaking free. She was trapped in the room. The Overseer was somewhere else. Right now all the woman could do was talk. If the Overseer actually wanted to try something more she’d need to come to where she was and that would give Claire and opportunity.

As long as she was alone in the room she and the Overseer were at a stalemate. When the door opened all bets were off.

“Most of the failures happened early on,” the Overseer continued. Claire knew exactly what she was doing, talking at her, as though what was being said was for her benefit, “They were predictable. The later ones though, that was where the results got _interesting_. The longer the subjects were able to survive at a continuous, low level of stress, the more intense the stimulus needed to generate a response from the virus. There would still be a response though.”

The Overseer’s voice grew harsh at that, not that Claire cared. Anything that left the woman frustrated was a good thing in Claire’s book.

“And that was the problem. Once mutation occurred the usual cascade of failure would take place. You’re my second to last remaining subject.”

That was useful information, second to last meant that Moira had to be alive as well. When the opportunity to escape came she’d need to look for her. Hopefully she wasn’t too far.

“I want to see what it takes to break you, for personal reasons as much as anything else. If you survive then you’re suitable for my purposes and if not I have the pleasure of watching you die in agony.”

There was a noise off to the left and Claire turned her head.

Finally something other than that crazy bitch monologuing.

A heavily reinforced automatic door slid slowly open.

There was darkness on the other side, maybe movement, but Claire couldn’t be sure if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her.

Something on the other side let out a shrill, anxious whine, like a dog.

“As you can see, the photosensitivity is still a problem.”

The lights in the room she was in began to dim, making it easier for Claire to look around and actually get her eyes to focus. Unlike everything else on the island the walls of the room were pristine, near reflective white, the doors blending almost seamlessly into the emptiness.

Almost.

There was a door on each wall.

A one in three chance of picking the right one, assuming the open door wasn’t the right one.

In the deeper darkness that lay beyond a pale shape moved.

Claire had been so ready for the Overseer herself to be the one to come in to gloat that for a moment she actually saw a figure in a white lab coat, exactly like what she’d imagined in her nightmares.

Long, pallid fingers curled around the door frame as whatever was on the other side reached into the room.

“She’s unique in many ways,” the Overseer commented, prompting whatever was on the other side of the door to crouch down and let out a howl of rage, “Not only is she the first female subject to survive mutation, she’s the first to retain some semblance of sapience. I wonder if the two are connected, or if it’s result of how long it took the virus to become active.”

Claire remained utterly motionless as the thing in the other room screeched at the speaker somewhere out of sight overhead. The room was tall, taller than necessary, as though it had been repurposed from something else. In fact, there was a gap between the ceiling and the walls, suggesting a much larger room that had been partitioned off.

Even if she hadn’t been restrained, there was no way of climbing the walls, featureless aside from the doors, to see what was on the other side, but it was still something to keep in mind.

The lights dimmed further, which seemed to calm the creature down because the screeching quieted to panting interspersed with the occasional whimper. It almost sounded like the thing was crying, which given the state of everything else that they’d encountered on the island wasn’t too much of a stretch. Every one of the monsters had shown some evidence of torture and the scattered notes they’d found had confirmed it. There was no reason to think that the thing in the other room was any different.

Except the Overseer had said it was still intelligent, hadn’t she?

Claire wasn’t stupid enough to think that she could reason with the thing, convince it to let her go, but it might mean something in the end.

Still, it was best to keep quiet and still and wait to see what it would do. Telling herself that she was biding her time, thinking of something, helped her ignore the truth, that she was trapped and utterly at the mercy of the Overseer and whatever the woman decided to throw at her.

The creature crouched down, dropping to all fours as it awkwardly scrabbled forward.

Claire craned her neck, trying to get a good look at the thing, but it ducked and moved away. Pale and skeletally thin, it brought to mind something that had been left to starve.

It was hard to tell much else about it, between the dim light and the way thing was crouching, scraggly hair falling forward to obscure its features.

Still, Claire managed to get a glimpse of eyes that reflected green in the darkness, like an animal’s, and the glint of light off of fangs. It moved awkwardly, shying away every time Claire turned her head trying to get a better look. Its movements were pained, with long, spidery limbs that didn’t seem suited for walking on all fours, but it couldn’t, or wouldn’t stand up. Ridges of bone ran down its back, some had broken through the skin and dark blood flowed when its movements caused the scabs around them to break.

Weaving back and forth, sometimes advancing a few steps, only to flinch away if Claire moved her head too quickly, it kept maddeningly to the periphery of her vision.

“The subject appears hesitant,” the Overseer narrated to no one, “The effects of t-Phobos should have left her biologically unable to experience fear due to hormonal changes so I wonder –”

The rest of what she said was drowned out by the creature growling, the noise random gibberish that rose and fell in a pattern almost like words. It stopped just in time for Claire to catch the last of what the Overseer was saying.

“– might overcome that.”

The lights went out, proving that no situation was so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

Even in the darkness she could trace the creature’s movement by the sounds it was making.

It making its way towards her, gasping and whimpering the whole time.

She had no clue what it was doing, but the waiting made it torture until, finally, she felt its fingers brush against her leg.

The thing gasped, and pulled away, making a small moaning sound as it did.

It muttered and whimpered and occasionally reached out to touch her. Its touch was cold, long claws tapping against the table and grazing her skin as it examined her.

The thing was shaking, Claire realized, though she had no clue what that meant.

Long, slender fingers curled around her face and Claire expected them to clench, claws to dig in, but instead it pulled its hand back.

The reprieve didn’t last, a moment later it was back, claws brushing against the side of her face, tangling in her hair.

It sighed, leaning in close enough that Claire could feel its hot, rancid breath against her skin.

Aside from its outbursts at the Overseer, it didn’t seem aggressive, at least not yet. Maybe, like so many of the other B.O.W.s she’d encountered it was drawn to sound and movement and her being utterly still and silent confused it.

That might change at any moment though. If it was smart like the Overseer had said it wouldn’t take too long for it to figure things out.

It leaned against the table, even in the darkness she could feel it looming over her, face inches from hers. Teeth grazed her neck as it let out a sharp hiss, but it didn’t bite. Instead Claire felt its tongue slide along her collarbone as it nuzzled her.

“This certainly is…interesting,” the Overseer commented, for the first time something other than contempt in her tone, “She doesn’t seem aggressive towards you.”

The creature snarled and crouched down, pressing against Claire.

Was it trying to protect her from the Overseer, or was it simply possessive, acting like a dog that thought someone might take its food?

“I wonder how much she actually remembers…”

Claire could feel its whole body shaking with ill contained rage. Any moment now it would attack.

“Maybe she recognizes you.”

The thing jumped onto the table, on top of her, threw back its head and howled.

“Do you recognize her?” The Overseer’s voice took on a mocking lilt, “Do you recognize your friend Claire?”

This time Claire was the one to let out a choked sob.

It couldn’t be.

Not again.

“Moira?” she said so quietly she wasn’t even sure if she’d said it out loud.

The thing hissed sharply, recoiling as though it had been struck.

“Claire,” it slurred, its voice thick, at though it might start crying. Then, softer, almost a whimper, “Sorry.”

“No!” Claire struggled against her restraints for all the good it would do, “You didn’t do anything. You don’t have to be sorry!”

It was a nightmare she’d relived countless times, over the years, the pain fresh and new.

The creature, Moira, whimpered, then lay down heavily on top of her. Her skin was rough and cold, stretched tight over muscle and bone.

“It’s going to be fine,” Claire lied, as much to herself as to Moira.

Moira nodded, pressing her face against Claire’s neck like a frightened child.

She sniffed loudly, and then Claire felt teeth against her neck again.

“I…” Moira muttered against her, “You’re so brave.”

“I had to be,” Claire laughed bitterly. The whole situation was so far beyond imagining that all she could do was go along with it.

“Pretty,” Moira croaked, her tongue, far too long, coiling against Claire’s neck, and then lower across her chest.

“Thanks?” She had no clue what to say to that when she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Moira seemed to be mostly fine.

Moira nodded, or maybe just moved her head

It was easy to think of B.O.W.s as being animalistic, that Moira’s actions were affectionate, and maybe there were, but she had to wonder when Moira’s tongue reached her breasts.

“What are you doing?” Claire asked, as though the answer wasn’t obvious.

Especially when Moira let out a shrill giggle and nipped at her, teeth scraping against her breast. Not hard enough to draw blood, it might have been playful, but given the context it was terrifying.

Clumsily, Moira moved her hands to Claire’s chest.

“Please,” Moira panted, yet didn’t stop or wait for permission to be granted. Her fingers curled Claire’s breasts and squeezed, claws pricking her skin, but not breaking it as far as she could tell.

It wasn’t as though Moira was being gentle though, her tough was rough, almost painfully so, especially when she tried to pinch Claire’s nipples.

Claire cried out in pain and Moira hissed at her.

Angry or just frustrated, Claire couldn’t tell, but she realized how dangerous her situation was. Moira wasn’t in her right mind and even if she didn’t mean to hurt her, it was a very real risk.

“Stop,” Claire said through clenched teeth, when Moira continued to play with her breasts, “Please.”

Moira’s response was to snarl and grab Claire’s face with both hands, fingers curled into her mouth, claws scraping her lips and tongue.

She was strong enough, her hands large enough, that Claire could feel the pressure of her grip, if she were to clench her hands…

“Please,” Moira whimpered, “I don’t…”

What she didn’t want to she didn’t seem able to say, instead shifting position and nearly falling off the table in the process.

She regained her balance, letting go and then smacking Claire in the side of the head in the process hard enough that she saw flashes of light. She was sure that Moira hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t stop her from crying out in pain and shock.

Not fear though, not yet, though there was a moment when Moira growled and smacked her again.

“Trying,” she hissed through clenched teeth, and then, awkwardly, tried to hold Claire against her.

It was impossible with the way she was strapped to the table, the most Moira was able to do was twist Claire’s neck at a painful angle and lay against her.

She was thin, painfully so, beneath rough skin Claire could feel every one of Moira’s ribs against the side of her face.

“Based on prior results I’d expected a far more aggressive response,” the Overseer, still, somehow, watching over it all, commented, “Lack of fear and inhibitions typically lead to violence. Then again this is just another sort of aggression, isn’t it?”

Moira raise her head and screamed, tightening her grip.

“Stop it!” Claire cried out over her howls, trying desperately to get through to her.

Her response was to scream even louder, and dig her claws into Claire’s shoulder, deep enough to draw blood.

“You’re hurting me!”

Moira continued to howl and rage at the Overseer’s voice, unconcerned, or unaware of what she was doing.

Claire realized that she had to distract her, somehow.

“I’m surprised you’ve held out this long,” the Overseer had to raise her voice to be heard above Moira, “I was sure that you’d have given in to terror by now. It’s a shame that you’re not likely to survive this. You would have been excellent for my purposes.”

It was as much about mocking her as it was about keeping Moira worked into a frenzy, Claire realized.

“Ignore her!” Claire screamed, trying to get through to her “You’ve got to fight it!”

It was hard to tell, but Claire thought she heard the Overseer laugh.

“One way or another you’ll die,” the woman said, sounding so self-assured that at that moment Claire wanted nothing more than to punch her in the mouth, yet another thing that she’d picked up from her brother.

Moira dug her claws in deeper, starting to clench and unclench her hands. It she was fighting it was a losing battle and any moment Claire was sure that Moira would start tearing into her full of mindless aggression with no other outlet.

“Moira will give in to her violent urges,” the Overseer continued, “Or fear of death will get the better of you. I’m interested if Moira’s surviving the mutations was because of how long she managed to hold out and something similar will happen to you, but I doubt it.”

Moira roared, there was no other way to describe it, a horrible, animal sound that human vocal chords shouldn’t have been capable of.

And still the Overseer’s gloating could be heard over it all.

“Either way it will be painful.”

Between the pain and the Overseer’s mocking it was hard for Claire to focus, but that was what the woman wanted, wasn’t it? If Claire panicked the Overseer won. If she could keep her head then…

She’d survive until Moira killed her.

Unless she managed to distract her.

Talking to her wasn’t working, Moira was so out of it that her pleas fell on deaf ears, which meant her only choice was to take action.

Not that there was much she could do, but she had to at least try.

Lifting her head as much as she was able, trying not to scream as Moira’s claws dug in deeper, Claire kissed her.

Luck seemed to be with her because that was the only explanation for how her lips ended up perfectly on Moira’s breast.

Even as out of it as Moira was she noticed.

Her screaming cut off abruptly in a startled squeak.

“You back with me?”

“Claire?” She sounded dazed, uncertain, “Did I…”

Her grip on Claire’s shoulders loosened and Claire, despite her best efforts, let out a hiss of pain.

Moira sniffed loudly and shifted position. In the darkness it was impossible for Claire to be sure, but it sounded like she was licking the blood off of her claws.

“I hurt you…”

“It’s fine,” Claire said quickly, hoping to keep Moira’s attention now that she had it.

“Fine?” The Overseer taunted, “What is there that you can possibly do?”

Of course the Overseer could hear them, because no situation was so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

Moira growled.

There was plenty that Claire could do, just not when she was strapped down to a table, trapped in a room with a B.O.W. who had until hours ago been a friend and coworker.

Moira was still a friend and getting through this was as much about saving her as it was about saving herself for Claire.

She wasn’t going to lose another friend.

“Please Moira,” Claire tried to keep her attention, but she could tell she was losing her, “Stay with me.”

“Do you really think there’s any way out?”

She had to ignore the Overseer and get Moira to do the same.

Another kiss, and when that didn’t work she knew it was time for desperate measures.

This time when she kissed Moira’s chest she opened her mouth and ran her tongue against the soft curve of Moira’s breast.

Her skin tasted of sweat and dirt and something else that Claire couldn’t place. Not rot, thankfully, but something unpleasant and not quite human.

Moira’s breath hitched, catching in her chest as the growling stopped.

“Oh…”

She had Moira’s attention now, but she couldn’t stop until she was sure.

Claire flicked her tongue back and forth, finding Moira’s nipple she pressed and tugged with her lips.

Moira let out a low moan.

“Are you really that desperate,” the Overseer wondered, “Or just insane?”

It was an excellent question, one that she really didn’t have the time to consider. She’d gotten Moira’s attention, but could she keep it?

The Overseer continued, “What do you think you can accomplish like this?”

It was the most insane struggle that Claire had ever found herself caught up in, which, considering everything that she’d been through over the years, was saying something.

Claire’s efforts were rewarded when Moira let out a sigh and leaned down against her.

“Claire. Please,” she panted, “Yes…I…”

She was still largely incoherent, but not quite in as bad a way.

Squirming, Moira let out a shrill giggle.

She sounded like she was on the edge of hysteria, but it was better than her acting like an animal, though in a way she still was, just in a very different way.

“This particular side effect never showed up previously,” the Overseer sounded thoughtful, “Unless it’s a result of the afflicted not experiencing fear in the final stages of mutation. Moira, are you acting on urges that you didn’t dare express previously?”

Claire could feel Moira tense at that, the growling starting to pick back up.

To keep her focus Claire nipped her, nothing too hard, just teeth against her skin, something that Claire knew, from experience, felt good for her. Unfortunately, in that moment, Claire learned a very important lesson, what felt good for her wasn’t universal.

Moira let out a startled gasp and pulled back.

“Ouch!”

It would have been comical if not for Moira slapping her across the face.

Luckily it was just the palm of her hand, no claws, but it still hurt.

“Sorry,” Claire apologized.

“This way,” Moira huffed, and then tried to demonstrate.

Moira’s attempts to show Claire what she wanted were far from gentle, though Claire didn’t think that she could help it with a mouthful of fangs. There was also the matter that Moira’s tongue was definitely longer and some of the things she was doing with it shouldn’t have been possible.

She was trying to be gentle though, and the moments of pain from her fangs were interspersed with her tongue coiling and flicking back and forth. Despite the clumsiness of her efforts there was something to be said of the contrast and Claire let out a little gasp of her own.

Moira froze, “That’s good?”

She sounded so pathetically hopeful that Claire had to struggle not to laugh.

“Yeah, it did,” because if Moira was talking it was a good thing. Getting her talking was the first step to getting her in a state where they could figure their way out of the situation.

Unfortunately, like all B.O.W.s Moira seemed to have a one track mind and her attention immediately went back to Claire’s breasts.

“I’d never imagined a situation quite like this,” the Overseer continued her commentary, “Have you?”

Claire wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at her, probably not, but she had. In the Aftermath of Antarctica it had been a frequent aspect in her nightmares about what had happened to Steve.

“Has this always been a fantasy of yours Moira?” The Overseer taunted.

Moira’s response was to tense and what was probably intended as a gentle nip, if that, turned into a bite.

It had, Claire was sure of it, not like this, but it had and that brought up a whole new burden of guilt. What if Moira had only joined TerraSave to follow her? What if Moira wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place if not for her?

“One that you’re only now getting the chance to act on?”

Moira’s fangs sank in deeper, her tongue moving to lap at the blood.

The desire for violence was still there, fighting with everything else Moira must have been feeling, but it seemed to be winning.

For the first time Claire felt a spike of fear. She was going to lose this fight and be mauled by a monster that used to be, still was, a friend.

The bracelet that the Overseer had used to track and torment her, that had been silent despite everything, beeped.

The noise must have startled Moira because she stopped and lifted her head.

It was too dark for Claire to tell, but it was so easy for her to imagine that Moira was looking at her own wrist, remembering the sound.

The Overseer laughed.

“I was wondering what it would take.”

Except it wasn’t going to end that way for her, the thought that if the virus won out and she became something like Moira, that the first thing she was going to do would be track the Overseer down and rip off her face was purely her. It was a purely human thought, something that anyone would have had in her situation.

The Overseer hadn’t won yet.

And more importantly, Claire hadn’t lost.

Moira growled, started to lower her head.

Something had changed, in her breathing, the way she was moving. She smelled blood, had tasted it and she liked it.

Her tongue was back at Claire’s chest, licking her, but not in desperate affection like before.

“Moira, stop,” Claire pleaded, “You’ve got to fight it.”

Then she wondered if pleading with a B.O.W. to stop had ever worked.

The bracelet beeped again.

In the accompanying flash of light she got a look at Moira.

There was no time to read into any of what she’d seen other than that Moira was unrecognizable.

“What do you really want?” The Overseer goaded, “Do you even know?”

“Want…” Moira panted, sounding pained.

Moira lunged forward, pressing her mouth against Claire’s in a kiss that was far more aggressive than passionate.

She could taste her own blood as Moira’s tongue pushed its way into her mouth, going deeper that should have been possible, and beneath it the taste of something else, something sickly sweet.

“So this is how it ends,” from the Overseer’s perspective things must have looked very different because she sounded so triumphant, “Stop fighting and give in. If the t-Phobos does to you want it’s done for Moira you might have the chance to break free and fight back.”

Because she must have noticed that the bracelet had once again fallen silent.

“Or are you that resigned to death?”

Claire might have been imagining it, but the Overseer sounded excited at the thought.

This time Moira’s growl was muffled by Claire’s mouth. She felt it rumble through her as Moira’s fangs pressed harder and harder against her lips.

Moira rubbed and squirmed against her, moaning into her mouth. She could feel everything that was wrong with Moira, or so it seemed, how her limbs seemed stretched, each of her ribs standing out in sharp contrast against her skin. How thick and rough her skin had become, like old leather.

When she broke the kiss Claire gasped for breath. It was hard to tell, but it felt like she might have split her lips against Moira’s fangs.

It didn’t matter though, not when it seemed like Moira was finally calming down.

Or so she thought.

When Moira half slid, half fell off the table Claire started to say something, she thought maybe something encouraging or comforting, but all that came out was a small, startled noise when Moira climbed back onto the table.

Facing the other way.

She felt Moira’s hands on her thighs, trying and failing, thanks to the restraints, to spread her legs. Undeterred, Moira lowered her head, fangs scraping against places where Claire had never wanted to feel them, and went to work with her tongue.

Her efforts were clumsy, fumbling and prodding, but her tongue was long and dexterous enough that it was able to slide inside Claire and press in just the right spot.

Claire gasped and pressed her legs together, only for Moira to again pry them apart and redouble her efforts.

Moira’s hands crept farther up Claire’s legs, thumbs sliding to either of her pussy to spread it open.

“I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

The Overseer’s tone was flat, almost disappointed sounding.

Almost.

There was a hint of something else that Claire couldn’t place.

Moira was too focused on what she was doing to respond, which was probably for the best given where her claws and fangs were.

She pushed her tongue in as far as she could, twisted it and dragged it back out, curling it and pressing it against Claire’s clit and, because she couldn’t help it, Claire arched her back and tried to press against her.

“Good?” Moira panted, breath hot against her skin. Not waiting for a response, she resumed and shifted position slightly, just enough to line her own pussy up with Claire’s face.

Dripping wet, she ground against Claire’s mouth until, seeing no other choice, and no point in resisting, Claire opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

Moaning, Moira pressed down harder against her.

Claire licked gingerly at Moira’s pussy, trying to ignore the taste. It wasn’t terrible, not exactly, it just wasn’t human, or so she thought, not that she had much of a benchmark for comparison other than one, maybe two, nights of drunken experimentation in college. She tried to draw on those memories now, thinking that Jell-O shots or a bottle of some disgusting, flavored vodka would have done a lot to improve the situation.

Moira made up for her own seeming lack of experience with enthusiasm, licking and sucking so hard that it almost hurt. Except there were times when she’d ease up just enough, find a rhythm and then it got hard for Claire to focus.

If not for the cold table beneath her it would have been easy to imagine that she was still in college, that everything since then was just some horrible dream sparked by something slipped into her drink.

As much as she would have liked to pretend otherwise it was real though, dangerously real.

When Moira’s efforts slowed or pain brought her into sharp focus, Claire did what she could to keep Moira distracted, listening and feeling for any cues that what she was doing was working.

There were none.

Or at least none she could figure out.

There was no pattern to when Moira’s breath would hitch or she’d stop what she was doing to let out a hiss of pleasure.

There was too much wrong, with Moira, with the whole situation. Claire had to settle for moving her tongue back and forth, keeping a steady pressure against Moira’s clit.

Eventually it was rewarded by Moira’s efforts becoming more sporadic.

She began to rock back and forth against Claire, which was fine, let her do the work, let her figure things out.

“What next?” The Overseer asked breathlessly, “What’s your plan?”

Survive the next five minutes and the five after that, which had been her plan pretty much since that fateful day in September. Maybe it wasn’t much of a way to live, but it had gotten her this far.

Moira began to whine, an awful, desperate sound. Claire kept at it, never faltering, even as Moira trembled above her. She was still trying, licking distractedly at Claire’s clit. To say it felt good would have been a stretch, but not too much of one. The thing was, there was a certain texture to her tongue, strange, but not unpleasant and stimulation was stimulation.

Claire chose to focus on that. Imagining that she was somewhere, anywhere than a zombie infested hellhole also helped.

Shaking like a leaf, it was impossible to tell exactly when Moira came, just that the noises she made became increasingly shrill and then stopped.

The sudden silence made her ears ring and, for once, the Overseer didn’t have a comment.

“Keep going?” Moira muttered.

Biting her lip, Claire nodded.

Maybe Moira could see well enough in the dark to know, maybe it was a lucky guess, maybe she could _taste_ how close she was, but she kept at it.

The orgasm was slow building, but inexorable. The first tremors were just from the tension in her legs, muscles aching from being stuck in one position for so long.

Her fingers clenched and unclenched in the air, nothing for her to grab on.

Moira was putting in her best effort, but she wasn’t focused enough to hurry things along.

Maybe she could taste it though, because the way she was working her tongue, deeper and deeper…

It hurt when Claire came, further tension rather than release.

For a long time afterwards she lay there breathless, waiting for her ears to stop ringing and the ability to focus to return.

Moira was the first to recover, stretching painfully and getting off the table.

She groped blindly in the darkness, hands running up and down Claire’s body.

“Please,” Claire winced, when Moira’s hand came to rest between her legs, “I need a rest.”

Moira muttered something unintelligible, continuing to feel her way across Claire’s body until she found the restraints across her arms and chest.

She began trying to unfasten them, not being at all subtle about it, so it was no surprise that the Overseer noticed.

“What are you doing?”

Now there was something different in her tone, something recognizable. Frustration.

“Fuck you,” Moira snapped. Giving up on figuring out how to loosen the bindings she grabbed and pulled, breaking them.

They must have given out easier than she’d expected because Claire heard her stumble back. More cursing followed, most of it made sense, though Moira had always been creative with profanity.

Claire finished freeing herself while Moira stomped around the room and swore.

Sitting up on the table, but not getting off of it, Claire rubbed the feeling back into her arms and legs. As much as she wanted to stretch properly, keeping out of Moira’s way seemed like the best idea for the time being.

During that time Moira managed to find a door and had thrown herself against it, by the sounds of things.

The swearing gave way to snarling as Moira tried again, confirming Claire’s suspicions that the doors to the room had been designed to withstand such an assault.

They were trapped for now, unless…

Claire looked up into the darkness above. Given how the building they were in looked to have been partitioned the doors might have been the strongest part of the room.

The Overseer, who’d been suspiciously quiet spoke up, “I’m curious what you –”

“There’s a gap in the walls up higher,” Claire raised her voice to speak over the two of them.

She’d been thinking that maybe, if the table wasn’t bolted down, or not secured that well given Moira’s strength, they could push it to the wall and try to help each other up. What she hadn’t expected was to hear Moira take a running jump and try to scrabble up the wall.

“What are you doing?” the Overseer repeated, sounding concerned.

It proved to be a mistake.

Letting out a sharp, bark-like laugh, Moira again threw herself off the wall, and rebounded in a jump.

Claire could hear her bounding from wall to wall, actually making progress upwards. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, she’d seen B.O.W.s climb walls before.

“Stop it!”

Moira must have reached the top because Claire heard her let out a triumphant shout, followed by a heavy thud as she fell to the floor on the other side.

The lights came on, blindingly bright.

On the other side of the wall Claire heard Moira let out an angry shout, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Squinting as she waited for her eyes to adjust, Claire hung her feet off the edge of the table, took a deep breath and then spat, trying to get the taste from her mouth, blood and other things.

She wanted to catch her breath before even trying to stand up and walk a lap of the room, not that there was anything she could do other than wait.

Moira was somewhere in the building, searching for the Overseer, wherever she was.

Somewhere.

And if she wasn’t going to hide from Moira, Claire knew that the Overseer would come for her.

All she could do was wait and trust Moira.

It would be a lie to say that she wasn’t at least nervous, but she’d make it through this.

She was sure of it.


End file.
